


To Love And Protect

by LilacCrocuta



Series: Medieval Septiplier [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Blood and Gore, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23380201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacCrocuta/pseuds/LilacCrocuta
Summary: The first fic of a barrage of medieval-era Septiplier fics that I wrote for a few good friends of mine. When King Mark is seriously wounded in an attack, one of his closest knights and friends, Sir Seán, must come to terms with his true feelings for him.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Sean McLoughlin
Series: Medieval Septiplier [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681588
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	To Love And Protect

_**“PROTECT THE KING!”** _

Seán’s head snapped up in an instant as soon as the order was shouted by Sir Wade from outside of the throne room. Today had been uneventful for the king and his fellow knights. A few beggers had been brought in that morning to visit the king and plead with him to help them with their problems, which he gladly did, and then during that afternoon, the ruler of Youtubia decided on the punishments of some of their latest criminals of the kingdom. It had been uneventful. Quiet. Serene.

Up until now.

“Not to worry, your highness.” Sir Tyler, one of Mark’s longest-serving knights assured the king, assuming position with his close friend Sir Ethan. “We will keep you safe from harm.”

“I trust you gentlemen.” Came Mark’s hushed, solemn reply from behind them all. As the Irish knight stepped in front of the occupied throne, Sir Tyler and Sir Ethan flanking him, he just managed to unsheathe his sword, in the same moment that two blond figures clad in black suits sprinted into the room. Inwardly, he cringed in disgust. It was the Paul brothers—a notorious pair of assassins who had made several attempts on King Mark’s life.

 _How the hell did they find their way in here?!_ Seán shook the question away and immediately unsheathed his sword, pointing it at the two as they slowed to a stop before the three knights and the king, panting quietly and staring defiantly in such a way that made Sir Seán want to punch out all of their teeth.

 _“If you take a step closer, you will be brought down at once.”_ The Irish knight snarled, glaring at each of them. On either side of him, Tyler and Ethan had also drawn their swords, which boosted his confidence greatly.

One of the brothers proceeded to slowly reach up and pull down the part of the mask he wore that hid the lower half of his face…..and Seán froze. That was neither Logan, nor was it Jake under the mask. It was but a stranger.

 _Then where—?_ The brunet met Tyler and Ethan’s bewildered gazes for a brief heartbeat, and then suddenly the room was filled with noise as more assassins poured into the room, seemingly from everywhere, all of them flocking towards the throne. Seán barely had time to count all of them, but he assumed there must have been eight, including the two imposters. And they were all armed with blades ranging from handheld to the kind one would use during a war. Immediately, he met two of them halfway, letting out a furious scream as their blades clashed. Nearby, he could hear Tyler and Ethan fending off as many of the attackers as they could, Mark joining in with his own sword. The battle raged on for what had to have been a full minute and a half, and as it did, the sound of metal scraping against metal, glass shattering, blows landing and the intruders howling in pain filled the air of the throne room. And yet, Seán was left to ponder where the real Paul brothers were hiding as he slashed another attacker across the stomach with his blade, downing them immediately and leaving just three left.

And then, he heard it.

 _ **“AAAAAAUGH!”** _The Irish Knight’s pounding heart stopped for a full beat, plummeting into his stomach as he whirled around.

_No…._

The sight that awaited him was the very sight that Seán had desperately hoped he would never have to see since the day he began training to protect his king. Since the day he met him.

Mark, standing on trembling legs, sweat beading on his forehead, slowly looked up to face his adversary, whose knife was currently lodged somewhere in his lower abdomen. The attacker tilted his head in what appeared to be amusement, and then abruptly tore the blade out, sending the wounded king collapsing to the floor in a heap.

_No. No. NO._

As the bastard was tackled to the ground by a thoroughly enraged Sir Tyler, Sir Seán made a beeline for the King’s side, hoping with every inch of his heart that he wasn’t too late, that the wound was fixable, that Mark wasn’t going to leave them. He practically fell to his knees at Mark’s side, one hand grabbing the King’s cape and using it to try and staunch the bleeding while the other reached up to shake his shoulder. Mark was breathing, but apparently unconscious, and Seán knew that with a wound this bad, it was imperative that Mark wake up and stay awake, at least until the medics arrived.

“Your highness—King Mark, _please—!”_ He begged, heart sinking further when the other man’s eyes didn’t open. Frantically, the Irish knight resorted to smacking Mark’s cheek, not hard enough to hurt him, but to try and get a reaction of some kind from him. _“MARK!”_ He shouted, shaking the king once more.

Images of an empty throne, of all of his friends dressed in black, of a mourning kingdom flashed through his head for several long seconds, making him feel dizzy with fear. All of those heartfelt memories he’d shared with the king—all the laughs they’d had, the smiles that had been exchanged between them and more…..all of that was on the line now.

Lightheaded and feeling utterly sick, Seán blacked out.

When he opened his eyes next, he was confused at first to find himself in his own bed….but as the Irish knight took a single glance around the room and gathered that it was nighttime, plus the fact that Lady Evelyn was sitting at his bedside as she usually would when he was ill, he remembered at once. Sitting up as carefully as he could, the Irish knight met the maiden’s caring gaze, terror gripping his heart.

“Lady Evelyn,” he whimpered out. “What’s happened to Mark?”

The other brunette hesitated, and as she did, Seán felt his chest cavity fill with ice.

_No….please no….._

“He is alive, I know that much.” The lady assured him after a moment, making the Knight’s heart feel ready to give out with relief. “But….” Evelyn went on quietly, avoiding his eyes as her own glistened. “I fear it may not be for long.”

Seán’s hopes crashed again at once, and in a single heartbeat, he was hauling himself out of bed, not caring at all how feeble and nauseous he felt, as he headed for Mark’s room. When he arrived there, the Irish knight stopped in the open doorway, taking in the scene in front of him. All of Mark’s knights and closest friends—Seán saw Bob, Wade, Ethan, Tyler, Nathan, Matthew, Amy and Felix— were gathered around his bedside, where the king himself lay, eyes closed and face almost as pale as his sheets.

At first glance, Seán feared that Mark was already gone….but then he caught the weak rise and fall of his chest and shakily continued into the room, catching the attention of everyone there.

As soon as he was in range, Sir Tyler wordlessly pulled over a spare seat for his friend, eyes solemn, but not bearing any mistrust or scorn towards him. The other knight quietly uttered a “Thank you” to him, before gazing down at Mark’s nearly white face.

“Evelyn told you, I assume?” The taller knight murmured, glancing down at Seán, who gave him a single nod. _“Is…..is it…..certain?”_ The shorter knight choked out after a moment of fighting to find the words. If Mark was indeed going to leave them on this night, he needed to know.

Tyler’s hand gently rested on his shoulder, and as their eyes met, the taller knight gave a small shrug, but his eyes relayed the message loud and clear to Seán: _“It is very possible.”_

For several minutes, the group remained in that room, none of them uttering a word as they gazed down at their wounded king, and as they did, Seán felt the guilt slam into him with the force of a tidal wave.

 _I should’ve been watching him. I was too focused on that other assassin, and I’d turned my back on him for too long. This is all on my shoulders._ More memories came flooding into his head the more the Irish knight stared at Mark’s face, feeling the first few tears begin spilling down his cheeks.

He remembered the day he’d met the king during a stroll through the kingdom. How Mark had smiled down at him and offered to sign him up as a knight. He remembered gladly taking the offer, having looked up to Mark since he was a young man. He remembered those harsh training sessions he’d had to endure to become a knight. But at the end of every session, though he walked away bruised and battered, he knew it was all worth it to help protect their kingdom’s leader. His friend.

He remembered getting closer to Mark as his knighting day arrived. How they found out how much in common they had, and eventually became even closer friends. And then a different memory came to him. That one night that Seán had stood on the balcony with the king when Mark couldn’t sleep one evening, and found him staring up at the stars. He’d claimed that he’d had a very strong love for the stars, and that they’d always made him feel at ease when he was stressed, and somehow Seán couldn’t help but agree with him. He’d ended up helping the king to bed that night, and remembered very fondly how Mark had nearly fallen asleep on him before they’d reached the actual bed.

And as he returned to the present and stared tearfully down at the pale face of his king, Seán took in the little details he hadn’t noticed until now. The way Mark’s dark, raven hair almost obscured his right eye as he rested….the perfect chin he possessed….the slight stubble that dotted the lower half of his face.

And for a long, agonizing second, he debated over it. He truly did. But then he knew deep down that he may not get another chance to do this.

So with that, Seán proceeded to bend down and press his lips to Mark’s colder ones in a tender kiss. As soon as he pulled away, the Irish knight inwardly slapped himself, feeling every set of eyes in the room land on him in perfect unison. Whether the others were horrified, shocked, or disgusted with him, he didn’t know, and settled for staring down at the floor with his face burning red-hot. The deed was done.

And then suddenly, the blankets rustled ever so slightly, and Seán dared to look at the man in the bed, his heart soaring immediately.

Mark’s eyes were open. They were staring into Seán’s. And there was a smile on his face.

“Well….” The king breathed out. “That’s certainly one way to wake up. And I don’t exactly mind it either.”

_Ohhhh Seán was fucked._

**Author's Note:**

> And that was the first of the many Septiplier fics ive written for this series! The only complaint I have is that editing this thing was torturous, since I just copied and pasted it here from my Google Docs, and therefore lost the perfect format it was in. And the worst part is that this fic is nowhere near LONG, compared to some of the ones I wrote after it.   
> But anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed it, and I'll try and upload the other 28 or so fics in the series soon!   
> Stay indoors, stay safe, don't touch your face, and peace out!


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